


IFHY (I Freaking Hate You)

by Acting4Hope



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Coming Out, Crushes, Developing Friendships, Enemies to Friends, Existential Crisis, Feelings Realization, M/M, mlm/wlw solidarity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acting4Hope/pseuds/Acting4Hope
Summary: but I love youOr: How Fitzroy finds out he's fucked.
Relationships: Argo Keene & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt & Rainer
Comments: 19
Kudos: 238





	IFHY (I Freaking Hate You)

**Author's Note:**

> happy valentine's day!! i am absolutely determined to get this out in the next uh....30 minutes. but if you see this on the 15th then know it's because i'm like, a minute off of the 14th. 
> 
> last year i wrote way too many words of barclane, and this year i've written way too many words of maplekeene!! shouts out to my beautiful wonderful girlfriend @duck-duck-juice on tumblr for spearheading this ship and getting me Far too invested! also, if parts of what is mentioned about fitzroy confuse you, have no fear! i am in the process of completing a fic that fleshes those concepts out (along with developing my current theory on the sir himself), so hopefully that is out sooner rather than later! also i know stones of farspeech aren't a thing in grad (probably) but i needed the phone stand-in don't come for me
> 
> also the title comes from the song [IFHY by Tyler, the Creator](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lo5cG0FhWro)! the lyrics don't entirely fit, but the general vibe really lends itself to this piece, so feel free to jam to that as you read! 
> 
> i hope you all are having a great valentine's day, and i hope you enjoy!

Fitzroy hates Argonaut Keene. 

Or, at least, he doesn’t like him. 

He knew from the moment Argo stepped into the dorm, his pulse quickening and his face warming with offense, that something was up. He carried such an...air with him that made the hairs on Fitzroy’s arms stand on end. He was cocky, he was too chill about everything, and he was suave but teetering towards sleaze. 

The thoughts that plagued Fitzroy’s mind for the next few days were fueled by this dislike, of course. 

Not to mention he was just so easy to _bicker_ with. No matter what it was! If Fitzroy spent too long in the shower, Argo went on and on about it when he got out. If Argo whistled too loudly when Fitzroy was studying they would devolve into twenty minutes of bickering before Fitzroy would storm out. Even going to bed was an issue! 

“Can you stop _staring_?” Argo whisper-yelled one night, chucking a pillow at Fitzroy’s head and violently jolting him from his trance. Fitzroy nearly fell out of bed, his body responding purely by muscle memory, and as his vision focused on Argo’s shirtless form he could almost see guilt flash across his face.

“I am not _staring_ at you,” Fitzroy snapped. Argo flinched a little, looking guilty. “I’m _trancing_ . Didn’t you listen the _first time_ I explained it? Or did it not penetrate your thick skull?” Maybe that was a bit harsh, but Fitzroy felt justified since he had been so _rudely_ awoken. 

“Fuckin’ whatever man, just ‘ _trance_ ’ looking somewhere else,” Argo muttered bitterly, pulling his covers back over himself and turning away from Fitzroy. “It’s fuckin’ creepy.” Fitzroy rolled his eyes, but was courteous enough to turn his body towards the window before he went back into meditation.

They never talked about it again.

And that was the _thing_ , in the beginning. Once an argument was over, it was over. There was never an apology, never an “and another thing” moment, and never a mention of it after the fact. So it was easy for Fitzroy to dislike Argo because they never had to talk about why they did this so often. The Firbolg would sometimes stare at him strangely afterwards, but he never said anything either. Fitzroy appreciated the silent pact made between the three of them. It reminded him of older days. 

He knew it wasn’t beneficial for him to view Argo with such a distaste, but it wasn’t like this was his end-goal anyway. Clyde Nite’s Night Knight School was waiting for his return! Goodcastle was waiting for his arrival! He just needed to lay low for a few more years and then he’d be golden. So he could hate Argonaut Keene. 

It seemed like the Fates had other plans for Fitzroy because this was set to change _very_ quickly.

\---

It starts one afternoon. Fitzroy just got out of his noon Ancient Civilizations class and decides to head back to the dorm. He was planning on getting started on homework, but the drag of his feet against the cobblestone implied a nap was likely in order. Usually when he gets out of Ancient Civ. the dorm is empty--Argo at his 1:30 P.M. Blame Taking course and the firbolg probably out somewhere breathing after his strenuous 11:00 A.M. Accounting class--and he would take this time to decompress before getting lunch or going for a run. But with the extra time, he could _probably_ fit some homework in before his stomach demands he feast. Or a nap. 

But when he opens the door, he finds the dorm _not_ empty. Argo’s dark blue hair is visible on his bed, though most of his body is hidden by blankets. Fitzroy assumes he’s sleeping, but then he hears faint sniffling right when he notices the tremors coming from the mound of covers. 

Well...this is certainly something. What is Fitzroy supposed to do? Leave? That feels like the best option, since it would seem Argo has yet to notice him, but for some reason that doesn’t feel right. Just because he doesn’t like the guy doesn’t mean he has to be a jerk about it. But what else does that leave? Walking inside and pretending like he doesn’t notice Argo? Confront him? _Comfort him_? Fitzroy is a well-spoken lad, but dealing with matters of the heart leaves him at a loss. 

And yet his heart is aching at the mere sight of Argo in such a state. 

He stands in the doorway for a little longer, puzzling this conundrum, until the problem solves itself via magic crab. Snippers crawls between Fitzroy’s legs and over to Argo’s bed, his claws reaching up in an attempt to climb atop it.  
  
“ _Snippers, no_ \--” Fitzroy whispers, but it’s too late. The second the words leave his lips Argo spasms, turning over immediately to stare at Fitzroy in shock. His face is splotched with patches of dark blue, his mustache glistening with the tears that fell onto it, and his eyes are bloodshot and sunken. Yep, definitely this is a bad time to be here. Fitzroy definitely needs to leave. He could just turn heel right now, shut the door, and come back two hours later in the hopes that Argo would be at his next class already. Yet his legs make no effort to move. 

“U-Uh--” Argo coughs, not-so-subtly wiping his face on his sleeve before reorienting himself to lay more casually on his bed. “Whaaat are y’doin’ home so early? Don’t you have, like...class?” 

“I, um,” Fitzroy coughs into his hand as well, the awkwardness of this situation quickly sucking all oxygen from the room. “It got out early. So now I am here!” He pauses for a moment. “But I do not have to be, if you want. I could. Go. Sit outside? If you wish.” He’s really hoping Argo wants him to leave. 

“N-No!” Damnit. “No, no it’s fine! I was just, uhhhhhh sleeping!” Oh god, this lie is so bad. “Yes I was, uh, taking a quick rest before class! And I was just, uhhhh, well I had a bad dream! So I started sweatin’. On my...face.” He’s a _rogue_ ; how is he this bad at lying right now? “Yep! I was, uh, face sweatin’ ‘cause of a bad dream! That’s why I look, uh...like this.” 

Okay, so that was utter bull, but Fitzroy is willing to work with that. He steps further into the dorm, letting the dorm swing shut behind him as he starts taking off his outer layers. 

“Oh, yes, of course, of course…” Fitzroy nods, shedding his cardigan and hanging it on the totally-not-dorm-compliant Fantasy Command Hooks he brought with him to school. “Sounds perfectly reasonable.” He unlaces his boots and sets them beside his bed before climbing onto the top mattress with his bookbag. “I came back to get a headstart on my assignments, so you are free to go back to sleep if you want.” He watches Argo expectantly for a nod to signal this interaction is over. Argo stares back, failing miserably to be casual about any of this, as Snippers finally succeeds in getting onto the bed. He crawls into Argo’s hand, offering his own crabby form of comfort. 

“Nah, I’m up now,” Argo says before noticing the crustacean now nudging his palm. “Your, uh, ‘friend’ seems to want something from me.” Fitzroy looks at the crab and frowns. 

“Yes, he does that sometimes to me, as well. Very needy little thing,” Argo smiles at this and holds Snippers up to his face, petting the iridescent crab with his free hand. 

“Isn’t he a projection of your magic, though?” Fitzroy nods as he turns his attention to his bag. Argo grins wider. “Doesn’t that make _you_ a little needy then?” Fitzroy sputters and accidentally drops his heavy bag to the floor, his face immediately going up in flames as Argo erupts in laughter. 

“I-I-I--I do _not_ \--” He attempts to speak over Argo’s laughing fit. “I am _not_ needy I--he’s his own--that’s not how familiars work! They’re their o-own--Snippers is not reflective of my own feelings!” Argo is now bent over himself laughing, the tiny crab taking this chance to climb onto his head and mess with his hair. Fitzroy knows this would usually be the moment he snaps. The moment where they fall into arguing like always. He certainly has fuel to stoke those flames, if he wanted to.

But looking at Argo now, seeing his body wracked with boisterous laughter and not quiet sobs. Hearing the wheeze in his voice as he tries to say something before immediately falling back into hysterics, free of whatever awkward sorrow he had prior. Feeling the mood in the room change and the air become light once more, Fitzroy realizes he _doesn’t_ want to argue with Argo.

They don’t talk about what made him so upset that afternoon, but they talk about other things. About magic. About crabs. About what constitutes a familiar and what constitutes a projection of oneself. About absolutely nothing at all. Because of this, Argo misses his Blame Taking class. But something about the way he looked so relieved when Fitzroy realizes this tells him more than words ever could.

That was the day the bickering and arguing faded out. They’d quip at each other occasionally, but it never devolved further. Fitzroy grew accustomed to bantering with Argo, and learning where the line was between joke and insult with him. As such, Argo learned as well and was far more mindful of Fitzroy’s eccentricities. 

After a few weeks, Fitzroy is laying in bed when he realizes something

He no longer hates Argo. 

The raging boil in his gut was merely a misunderstanding of his character, fueled by nothing but assumptions. Argo is actually kind of a “chill dude”, as the cool kids say. Fitzroy enjoys his company, even! Though it perplexes him at first--this idea of not hating Argo--he eventually decides that this is just as fine as their previous arrangement. He could have friends and still have his life plans. Plenty of people did! 

With that settled and his mind finally at ease, he slips into meditation without an issue.

The problems come by morning, when Fitzroy snaps from his trance to realize a fair number of dreams were about the genasi he _just_ decided was his friend. Well, surely this is normal when an idea is so foreign, right? 

\---

“Right?” Fitzroy asks Rainer a few days later, when the problem persists. Rainer, mouth full of cereal, eyes him skeptically, causing Fitzroy to huff. “I don’t know what that face means.” She snorts, swallowing her food.

“I mean...can I be honest?” she says. 

“I would be bothered if you _weren’t_ being honest,” Fitzroy replies, poking at his eggs but expectantly watching Rainer’s movements. 

“Valid.” She shovels another bite of cereal into her mouth before finishing her thought. “It’s a little odd, dude.” Fitzroy gapes at her, shocked. “What?! You wanted me to be honest! And I’m honestly saying that it’s a _little odd_ to have consistent dreams about a friend!” 

“H-How would you--” Fitzroy splutters, “So is there something wrong with me?? Am I sick?” 

“Do you feel sick?” Rainer goes to feel Fitzroy’s forehead but is batted away. She pouts dramatically.

“ _No_ , I do not feel _sick_.” Fitzroy replies, rolling his eyes at his friend’s dramatics. 

“Then you’re not _sick_ , dummy,” Rainer jabs at him with her spoon, which he proceeds to snatch from her. “Hey! What the hell, man!?” 

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ , did you need this?” Fitzroy asks, feigning innocence as he twirls the spoon around in his hand. Rainer shoves his arms and takes his spoon instead, turning back to her cereal like a child would do to ignore their mother. “Come on, Rainer, I was only kidding! Joshing around? Having a gaff?” 

“I just don’t get why you ask me for _my_ advice and then feel the need to take my spoon,” she mutters, but it’s clear she’s not being serious. Fitzroy sighs and tosses her spoon back to her. She grins and immediately begins digging in with both spoons wielded. He watches her eat in mild disgust before turning away to poke at his eggs again. 

“I just...I’m at a little bit of a loss here, Rainer. Friends are... _new_ to me, and as such I am becoming painfully aware of the many feelings associated with having friends. And I had just assumed it was perfectly natural to dream about your friends, but _apparently_ it isn’t. So, I...I do not know ‘what’s up’, as you’d say.” 

“ _God_ , you always talk like a grandpa,” Rainer says, mouth full of food. Fitzroy gags and flails his hand in her direction. 

“Oh my Gods, cover your mouth! I don’t want to see your _cereal mush_!” Fitzroy cries out, covering his eyes with his other hand as Rainer laughs. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners??” 

“Nope!” Rainer answers cheerily after swallowing. Fitzroy laughs a little, finally conceding to the bit, and shakes his head. “Okay, back to serious times. You want my honest opinion right? My absolutely, posi-toot-ly, one-hundo percent bonafide opinion?” 

“ _Yes_ , Rainer, how many times do I have to _say_ \--” 

“--I think you’re attracted to him.” Fitzroy’s sentence dies in his throat as the words take a second to cycle through his brain. Rainer watches and counts in her head. Five, four, three-- 

“You _WHAT_ ?!” Oh! It took less time than she thought! “You--You, I--How--R-Rainer it is _not_ \--what makes y-you think--well I’d _never_ , I--” He is suddenly silenced by a spoonful of cereal shoved into his mouth, Rainer levelling him an unimpressed look.

“Okay, hold onto that while I break it down, will you?” She lets go of the spoon. “I don’t think you _expected_ to be attracted to Argo, but I’m telling you that’s _likely_ what is up. I’ve never had consistent dreams about my friends before. Well--wait--actually I did have a dream once where you were a horse-man? Not like a centaur, but, like, _literally_ a horse-man. It was crazy! But that’s besides the point. Unless you’re having horse-man dreams about Argo--and if you _are_ you legally have to tell me or else it’s entrapment. But it’s likely just your brain manifesting its instincts of ‘hey that guy’s cute’ into your subconscious dreams!” Her words hang in the air for a moment. “Okay, _now_ you can take the spoon out.” Fitzroy immediately rips the spoon from his mouth. 

“But that isn’t--I don’t!” He huffs, flustered, and tries again. “Rainer, I have never found a _man_ to be attractive before.” 

“You haven’t?” she asks, not in a mocking way but in a genuinely serious way. This causes Fitzroy to pause. 

“W-Well, I would say that I’ve always found the male aesthetic to be more pleasing to the eye than...than women, but I didn’t. I don’t…” He thinks for a second, a few staggered moments of his past finally clicking into place. “...huh. I guess I _do_ like men, don’t I?” 

“I mean, you just said yourself that you’re more attracted to guys, so I’d say yeah!” Rainer places a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t realize this wasn’t something you knew, Fitz, I’m sorry for being so frank about it.” Fitzroy shakes his head and smiles, looking a bit relieved. 

“Honestly? I feel like I should be thanking you,” he says. “I do not think I would’ve put that whole puzzle together if it wasn’t for your blunt statement of the obvious. I just...I just never thought about it all that much because I, uh, well it isn’t important why!” He turns to Rainer and offers her a more confident grin, which she returns in kind. “So, I’m just attracted to my roommate? Is this okay?” 

“It can be if you want it to be,” Rainer offers with a shrug. “It’s up to you whether you talk to Argo about it. Though, speaking from experience, it just makes things kinda weird. Like, I’ve found _plenty_ of girls really cute, but I never _said_ anything about it. That’d make it, like...weird. Especially if she wasn’t into me.” 

“Oh, so _that’s_ why you continue to avoid Zana at all costs!” Fitzroy teases, earning himself a gasp and another hearty smack on the shoulder. 

“ _Don’t say that so loudly, dickhead_!” Rainer whispers, looking paranoid around the cafeteria. Said tiefling is sitting with Rolandus and Rhodes as she always does, but her eyes lock with Rainer’s for a moment. Zana smiles politely and waves. Rainer, suddenly feeling very hot, waves back. Then Rolandus gets her attention again and suddenly those passionate fiery eyes are gone from Rainer’s sight. She sighs dreamily. 

“Definitely isn’t into you. Uh-huh, I understand completely.” Fitzroy jabs plainly. Rainer glares at him. 

“I will send Peanuts to wake you every day for the next _month_ if you say another word.” Rainer says, the threat punctuated by the squirrel skeleton suddenly popping out from her chair. Fitzroy flinches, skeeved out by the squirrel, and nods. “ _Good_. Now let’s just finish our breakfast and then I’ll help you with some cantrips.” Fitzroy turns back to his food, finally feeling well enough to finish it, and the two friends lapse into comfortable silence. That is, until a question nags at Fitzroy again. 

“So does a horse-man just look like if a man was a horse, or if a horse was a man?” 

“Neither. So, from what I remember, you still had your head--” 

\---

Okay, so Fitzroy could live with this. Argo’s an attractive guy! Anyone with functioning eyeballs could tell you that. So Fitzroy has had a few dreams about him; that’s completely natural...apparently. But, like Rainer said, it’s not something he needs to bring up with the guy. They just started actually being friends! He isn’t going to try and ruin that because his brain has finally caught up with his eyes. 

So, he lets it go. At least, as much as he’s able to. His nights are still kinda weird, but by morning it’s all just a blur. 

Argo remains none the wiser, which is a good thing. The three of them--Fitzroy, Argo, and the Firbolg--start spending a lot more time together after Argo and Fitzroy squashed the beef, and Fitzroy is proud to consider these two his... _friends_. Even if he’d rather be at the Knight school right now. Which, if he’s honest, is losing its appeal with each passing day. 

But he can’t give up--nay, he _won’t_ give up--on his dreams! He has goals to reach! Knighthoods to achieve! Unreasonably high standards set by himself and himself _only_ to uphold! 

Which is how he finds himself seated on a bench, alone in the ever-growing chill, having a full-blown dissociative episode. He doesn’t actually know how much time has passed, as his mind isn’t in the right place to be discerning hours. All he remembers is getting too in his head on his mid-afternoon run, sitting down to take a breather, and then not getting back up. He doesn’t think he could get up if he tried; his limbs feel like sand and when he focuses on his hands he notices they’re trembling. And then his mind notices he’s returned to reality and _immediately_ goes down an existential spiral, causing him to lose himself once more. 

The problem is he’s starting to lose faith in a lot of things. He _thought_ he could trust the Knight school, but that trust was obviously only tethered to his ability to be like every other knight-in-training. He _thought_ he could trust Goodcastle, but since his removal from the knight program they’ve stopped returning his letters. He _thought_ he could trust this school, but _clearly_ no one takes him seriously enough to understand there’s been a _mistake_ in making him a hench/sidekick. He just...doesn’t know who to trust. Or _what_ to trust, for that matter. And that isn’t _good_ because Fitzroy has finally decided to give trusting things a _try_ after being _used_ for so many years, and now it seems like his inner instincts were _right_ and he was _wrong_ and his morals are _wrong_ and he shouldn’t have gotten so attached to this identity he should _go_ he should _run_ all he wants to do is finish his _run_ but he can’t _move he can’t move he can’t breathe air air air where is the air where is he who is he who_ \-- 

“Fitz?” A familiar voice pulls Fitzroy back down, and it’s now that he realizes he’s fallen off the bench. His breaths come quick and ragged, and he knows he doesn’t have the energy to call back. He hopes that whoever’s calling for him gets bored and goes away; he doesn’t think he could live with anyone seeing him in this state. 

“Fitzroy! You out here?” Oh gods, they’re getting closer. Fitzroy attempts to slow his breathing down so he can at _least_ get himself back on the bench. But as he tries to move his arms, he finds them lead weights--anchors keeping him stuck on the cobblestone. His stomach drops as he picks up the sound of footsteps. 

_Please go away_ , he silently pleads. _Please go away please go away please_ \-- 

“Fitzroy!” The voice has found him. Now that it’s closer, Fitzroy recognizes the cadence of them, too. He feels a weight suddenly land on his shoulder that ignites every neuron in his body. He falls over, staring wide-eyed at the water genasi looking back. “Hey, buddy, are you okay? Are you hurt? We’ve been looking for ya for hours!” 

“A-Argo--” he manages before his breath is knocked out of him again by pure panic. Argo must notice the tension in his body because he takes a massive step back before sitting cross-legged on the cobblestone. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright…” Argo says calmly, his timbre rumbling in his chest in a way that pulls Fitzroy from his spiral. “Just breathe, buddy...In and out….In and out…” He starts exaggerating his own breaths--filling his abdomen with as much air as possible before slowly letting it out through his mouth. Fitzroy finds himself mimicking the genasi’s movements before his brain has time to register it, and it takes only a few cycles for his heart rate to finally return to rest. Even still, he remains following Argo’s instructions until the strength returns to his limbs. Argo notices his relaxation and stands up, offering Fitzroy a hand. Fitzroy numbly accepts it and lets his weight be dragged up by Argo’s powerful arms. _Quite a lot of strength for a rogue_ , Fitzroy notices for no reason at all. _Must be his time at sea_. 

“You wanna sit back down?” Argo offers, head gesturing towards the bench behind them. Fitzroy nods and Argo guides him by their still-conjoined hands to it. Once Fitzroy is seated on the bench, it’s as if all the strength leeches through the stone, and he falls lifelessly over himself. Argo is there to catch him, in case he goes head-first into the cobblestone, but pulls away when he feels Fitzroy’s got himself. They sit for a while in silence.

“I--Argo I’m--” Fitzroy tries, but once again loses his voice. He coughs, sits back up, and starts over. “Argo I’m so--” 

“If you’re about to say you’re sorry for anythin’, then I’ll be forced to bop ya,” Argo cuts him off. “Rainer’s orders.” He looks at Fitzroy and smiles. “Well, also my orders, but she had a feelin’ you’d be like that.” Fitzroy manages to roll his eyes at that. “I’m bein’ serious, Fitz! We aren’t _mad_ at ya, or anything like that. We were just worried! You’ve been gone for _hours_!” 

“What--What time is it?” Fitzroy asks. Argo quirks a brow at him. 

“Nearly 11,” Fitzroy stares at Argo in horror. 

“ _Eleven_!?” 

“Look at the sky, mate! It’s nearly pitch-black!!” Argo gestures upward. Fitzroy takes that time to look around him and, yep, it’s _definitely_ nighttime now. Which, figuring he left for his run at about 2 PM today, means he’s been stuck on this bench for about-- 

“ _Nine hours_ !? I-I’ve been out here for--” Fitzroy sags over himself again, passing his hands through his hair in frustration. Its nearly enough to send him into a self-deprecation-induced rage for wasting so much of not only _his own_ time, but also _everyone else’s_ time who’ve probably been _looking for him_ because he’s too much of an _idiot_ to _pull it together for once in his gods forsaken li_ \-- 

“ _Hey_ !” Argo cuts through his train of thought. “Enough of that spirallin’ bullshit, okay! Nobody’s mad at you! Hell, all of us assumed you’d just skipped town and gone home for the weekend. But when Groundsy told us he didn’t drive you to New Hope, we got suspicious. Then I got worried because I knew you were goin’ on your run, and I thought you mighta tripped and hurt yourself or passed out or somethin’. And then that got the Firbolg worried because he said it was gonna go below freezing tonight, which got _Rainer_ worried because she said she saw you leave for your run in a tank top and gym shorts. Then _Leon_ got worried because he knows way too much about pneumonia, which then got Buckminster to shut us all up and start a search party for ya!” He sits there for a moment before a thought comes to him. “Which reminds me, I should let the team know I found you. We somehow managed to get Rolandus and his squad of goons in on it and I’m not gonna _say_ bets were placed to see which team would find you first, _buuuuuut_ it’s definitely enough coin for us to all go get wings at the tavern sooooo--” 

“Wait!” Fitzroy reaches out and places a hand on Argo’s knee, stopping him. He looks up at Argo, who is mid-dialing his Stone of Farspeech, his eyes pleading. “Can we...can we wait? A little while longer, I--I…” He sighs and stares between his knees. “I just need a second.” A few breaths go by before Fitzroy feels a warm hand settle atop his. He looks back up to see Argo--sans Farspeech--gazing down at him kindly. Fitzroy manages a small smile and sits up. The two of them look at each other like this for a moment, then turn their gazes upwards. The stars are out tonight, distant but brilliant. Argo lets an awed breath out through his nose. 

“Argo, you…” Fitzroy starts. “Have you ever...had a dream so...so _immediately_ ripped from your grasp that it leaves you reeling for what to do next?” He doesn’t chance a look at the rogue then, but if he had he would have seen Argo looking at Fitzroy for a long, pained moment before returning to the night sky. 

“I--Yeah, Fitz...yeah, I have,” Argo admits, his tone barely above audible. Fitzroy laughs somberly. 

“How did you deal with it? Genuinely asking, by the way because I--” he sighs and tries again. “I have lived for many years, and experienced many things. And never in my life _ever_ have I felt this... _alone_. Like I’ve lost it _all_ and have no way of getting it back. I just can’t--I lost my footing _too_ hard, Argo. Too _fast_ , and I just don’t know how to...get back up.” He feels the tears before he recognizes their presence. “And I’m just starting to think--to _realize_ , really--that everything I’ve been working my _whole life towards_ is never going to come back to me, Argo. It isn’t! And I am just so _sick_ and _tired_ of _pretending_ like I think it will even when I _know_ it won’t! But I just keep holding on because I know that without it I am _nothing_ , Argo, I am nothing but a _fraud_ and a _shell_ and a--a--a--a _fucking_ _failure_!” 

The silence following his words consume him, and he can’t keep his gaze on the stars any longer. He turns to Argo, expecting to see disgust and hatred and everything he feels now reflected back at him. 

But he doesn’t see that. Instead he sees a kind, understanding, sad look that speaks thousands of words without Argo needing to open his mouth. And Fitzroy can’t take it--can’t take the kindness and the empathy--so he buckles and lets the fates pull him to whatever to do next. 

That pull sends him crashing into Argo’s embrace, who has firm arms around him as he devolves into sobs and incoherent babbles. Argo’s body is warm-- _he’s_ warm--and his hands rub gentle circles on his back. He can’t understand why one being can be so nice to someone like him; why Argo has even given him the time of day when he has clearly struggled for so long with so much. But Argo stays solid, even when Fitzroy feels his body turn to ash. He remains there until the crying subsides and the ash coalesces back into humanoid shape. And then he stays there even _longer_ , not yet willing to let go. 

Truth be told, neither is Fitzroy. 

Eventually, though, they do pull apart. Fitzroy stays close to him, thunking a forehead on his shoulder. 

“I’m not allowed to apologize for having a full-blown Moment into your shirt, am I?” Fitzroy asks, muffled by Argo’s shirt. 

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely you _cannot_ ,” Argo replies, patting Fitzroy’s back idly. “And if you try to, I’ll bribe Gary into waking you up an hour before your alarm for the next two weeks.” 

“You _monster_ ,” 

“That’s what they call me! A ruthless, dashing, charming, suave, swashbuckling, dazzlingly handsome, intelligent, fashionable, did I mention suave--” 

“Oh, _Gods_ , I get it!” Fitzroy groans. Argo snorts out a laugh, causing Fitzroy to chuckle as well. 

“Nah, seriously though, I don’t wanna hear you apologizin’ to _anyone_ for feelin’ your feelings. You’re a person like everyone else--well, you’re a half-elf and I’m a genasi, but you get my point. You’re allowed to have feelings! And you’re certainly allowed to cry ‘em out!” Argo nudges Fitzroy off his shoulder so he can emphasize his point. “Crying’s perfectly healthy! I wish we had a whole class on crying so people would stop being so damn _uncomfortable_ about it! I--Fitzroy I--” He sighs, caught up in his words. 

“I can’t even begin to try and understand what you’re feelin’ right now, even if I _have_ experienced similar moments of hopelessness and defeat. Because you’re _you_ and I’m _me_ , and how we process these things are completely different. But what I _will_ say is that I don’t think you’re a failure, and I don’t think you’re a nobody, and certainly do not think you’re a fraud. You’re Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight in Absentia of the Realm of Goodcastle.” He smiles, crooked and wide. “Besides that, you’re my roommate, and my breakfast buddy, and my English tutor, and my gym partner, and my sparring partner, and a member of the Trio, and my _friend_ . And _nothing_ will ever change that, Fitz. You’re always gonna be my friend, and so I’m always gonna be here to support you. Because I care about you and you’re worth it; and I know so many others who would second that statement.” 

Fitzroy doesn’t know what to say. Then he realizes he doesn’t need to, so he does the next best thing: gives Argo another sturdy, strong hug before pulling away and smiling.

And it is in that moment, as Argo’s Stone finally rings. As he answers it and lets Buckminster know they won the bet, and offers Fitzroy another hand to get off the bench. As they walk back to the school to reconvene with his friends who will _surely_ get on his butt about being out so late. As he registers the hand still interlocked with his own, that Fitzroy comes to the most terrifying conclusion as of late. 

He doesn’t hate Argonaut Keene. 

He’s in love with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this or any of my other works, then feel free to let me know on [my tumblr](https://lesbian--susie.tumblr.com/)!!! I am always open for requests, theories, or just general clownery on there!!! Also comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


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